" I was Helen's last wife. I used to stare at her as a child, this beautiful, vibrant woman with a generous mouth that always seemed to be laughing. She kept her hair long, which wasn't the style in vogue, and it always escaped and fell about her face in bits and pieces she pushed back behind her ears. She was physical. She loved working with tools; repairing the ship, modifying apartments, even creating sculptures that seemed about to move. She was restless energy. At every dance, she was in the middle of the bodies, barefoot, colorful skirts swinging as she stomped out steps, tossing her hair back out of her eyes, until her shirt was wet with sweat and her face glowed.

"I fell in love with her when I was three, the first time she grabbed my hands and tried to teach me the steps to a line dance. It was a kaleidoscope of color and sensation; her swirling skirt made of scraps of colorful fabric, her browned bare feet and arms going around and around, her smile and the big, smacking kiss she planted on my mouth when the music finally stopped. A hug and she moved off to dance with her wife. I stood there watching her, the music pounding in my chest, until an adult pulled me off the dance floor to keep me from being trampled by big bodies laughing and swinging madly about to the screaming noise they called dance music. "

very pleased, Frog said to herself. now, off to the gym we go.

Update: Oddly enough, the gym did not lift my spirits today. The blah mood went away while I was working out, but it resurfaced in the car on the ride home. Normally the gym trip solves it. Of course, I skimped on my weights after 12 days off. That could be it. Or it could be exhaustion, PMS, or not writing. I just wish it weren't so pervasive.